


My Dog Speaks More Eloquently

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, My First Fanfic, Washinton pulled dog names out of his ass, i love them and only want the best, trash children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7515310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> Your dog tackled me but you're cute so all is forgiven AU. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Dog Speaks More Eloquently

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fanfiction. That doesn't excuse the fact that its absolutely shitty. I also acknowledge the fact that my writing is awkward and clunky. I would really appreciate it if you could leave a critique, maybe tell me what I could fix. Thank you!  
> And yes, George actually had a hound named Sweetlips, lord knows why.

He hears it before it hits him.  
His warnings are a sharp bark, a rounded whistle, and a young man shouting, _"Sweetlips! Get back here, girl!"_. Suddenly, a large, warm mass collides with his back, and John's wind is knocked out of him as he hits the ground, a string of curses tumbling from his mouth. As he recovers his senses, he hears the man scolding the foxhound that stands directly above him. He sits up as soon as the dog is pulled from atop of him. John looks up, fully intending to shoot some (probably undeserved) bitter words at the dog's owner. Whatever he's about to say dies on his tongue as he sees the guy standing above him, firmly holding a large, lean hound by the collar.

"Hey, man, you okay?" the guy asks, extending his free hand to help John up. He springs to his feet, raking his eyes over the stranger's body. He's handsome, certainly; shiny black hair trails down to his shoulders, and a very slight beard of the same color stands out against tanned olive skin. He's a few inches shorter than John, and though he guesses that the guy can't be any less than a year younger than him, he seems old beyond his years. Perhaps it's the way his eyes sparkle with vast knowledge, and a want of more. Maybe it's just the bags underneath them, a sign of far too many sleepless nights. All of these features are assembled on a lean hunger-pang frame, tied together with an air of restlessness. _And,_ John admits to himself, _he's pretty damn cute._ It takes well over half a minute before John realizes with a jolt that the man's mouth is moving. 

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, man," he was saying, the words pouring from his mouth. "Sweetlips just gets real rowdy on her walks! Don't ya, girl?" He pauses to scratch his dog under the ears, then looks back up at John. "Hey, you sure you're okay?" 

John nods hurriedly, trying to think of a way to break the ice. "Sweetlips, huh? That's sure..." he fumbles. "A name." _Great work, John._

The stranger chuckles, and John tenses up defensively. "I mean, you're not wrong," he replies, his eyes sparkling. Smiling, he extends a hand. "Speaking of names, I'm Alexander Hamilton." 

John takes Alexander's hand, trying to ignore the pleasant jolt he got from the other mans hand in his. _You literally met two minutes ago, calm down!_ John scolds himself as he takes his hand back. "My name's John. John Laurens. Nice to meet you." 

Alexander smiles brilliantly, and opens his mouth to say something, when Sweetlips starts pawing at his leg and whining impatiently. Alexander looks back to John and shrugs before announcing, "Well, we'd better get going." Before he starts off, however, he pulls out his phone. "Say, I don't suppose I could get your number?" he asks with a slight blush. 

"Yeah, hang on, just lemme," John stumbles through his words as he tugs his phone from the pocket of his jeans. He reads off his number rapidly, watching to make sure Alexander types it in correctly.

"I guess we should head off, then."

"Kay. Bye."

With that awkward conclusion, they part. It's two minutes later, as he makes his way out of the park, that John feels his phone vibrating against his thigh. He whips it out and reads a text, from a number he vaguely recognizes as Alexander's.

_Hi, John!_

_This is Alexander. The guy with the crazy dog. I still feel kind of bad about the whole incident. I was wondering if I could take you out to coffee tomorrow to make up for it?_

John doesn't even have to think about his answer. He smiles to himself as he types his response. 

_It's a date! See you tomorrow._

_P.S. Leave the dog this time! :)_

_-John_


End file.
